The Unhelpful Dead
The Unhelpful Dead is the first encounter in Where Dead Men Walk. Enemies *Zombie (1170 Gold, 144 Xp, 90 Energy, 5 HP) Transcript Introduction "Well, this is the place," Hugh says. "Bloody obliging of them to put up signs letting us know." The banners planted in a row at the edge of the dense evergreen forest, menacing sentinels in the faint moonlight, do indeed leave little room for doubt. Each one bear the von Malhaven family crest. Such border markings were common in Stromhamre long ago, when much of the province was divided up into the dominions of fierce and bellicose barons. Every noble house denoted the edges of their territory, as a warning and a challenge to outsiders -- and to justify their slaughter of anyone who trespassed. It's an archaic tradition, a relic of the past. But vampires have long memories... "So what do we do now?" Hugh asks. "Wander through the trees like lost sheep till we find where we want to be?" "Not exactly," you reply." We wander along this path and ask the first zombie we meet for directions." You suit your action to the words, and enter the gloomy route that cuts between the looming trees. The others follow. "Oh, well this is just bloody marvelous!" "Do you ever intend to stop complaining?" Tessa asks. "Yeah, when we go somewhere pleasant for a bloody change – instead of forests crawling with dead things, snowy wastelands full of dangerous nutters, and underground..." He trails off as Rakshara turns to him. "Underground what?" she asks. "Oh... Well... the underground places weren't so bad. Nice crystals... Shiny..." "The lava reminded me of home," Brachus muses. "As I was saying..." you begin, "Katrina's arranged to have zombies loyal to her patrolling these paths. We just have to find them and tell them the passphrase from her letter. Then they'll guide us." "Loyal zombies?" Hugh snorts. "Zombies aren't always like the ones that attacked us in Nordent," Tessa says. "Have you ever been to Vornstaag?" "No. And from what I hear, I don't blooming well want to. They say the place is full of undead." "It is. They walk the streets and perform manual labor for the living townspeople. Most of the ones I met were friendly and polite. Unlike some people..." "Zombies," Rakshara says. "Yes, mostly zombies," Tessa replies. "They sometimes employ skeletons or ghosts as well, but-" "No... Zombies!" You all come to a halt. In the quietness that replaces your voices and footfalls, there's a low groaning and the sound of shuffling limbs. Faint, humanoid shapes detach themselves from the gloom up ahead. "Zombies!" Hugh yells. "Cut their head off! Burn them! Smash their brains!" "Shut up, you fool!" Tessa hisses. You step forward, murmuring a hope that these zombies aren't easily offended. "Greetings," you say. "We want to suck your blood." "That's the passphrase?" Hugh whispers. "Katrina has a... strange... sense of humor sometimes," Tessa whispers back. The soft moaning intensifies. The zombies continue to shamble towards you, in a manner that doesn't fill you with confidence. "We want to such your blood," you repeat. "Oh... Katrina von Malhaven has a strong, old-fashioned Stromhamren accent," Tessa says. "The words might not work without it." "I'm not good at accents!" The zombies' moaning takes on a distinctly threatening tone. "What? Just... Oh, for the gods' sake... Ve vant to suck your blood!" "They're still coming!" Rakshara says. "I can see that!" Tessa growls. She gives a theatrical cough. "Ve. Vant. To. Suck. Your. Blood." "A delightful rendition," Brachus says, "but are we entirely certain that these are Katrina's zombies?" The zombies groan. Their arms rise up, hands outstretched as though in anticipation of seizing your necks or gouging at your faces. "So, now can we cut their heads off, burn them, and smash their brains?" Hugh asks. "Yes!" the rest of you chorus. "About bloody time..." Conclusion "If these are Katrina von Malhaven's zombies," Rakshara says, as Rogar's Dream splits an undead skull down the middle, "won't she be angry with us for destroying them?" "Her sodding fault for having such a stupid bloody accent!" Hugh replies, his cleaver lopping another's head off, sending it flying into the darkness and bushes. Dispatching the zombies proves much easier than attempting to parlay with them was. Even so, you decide that you should practice your Stromhamren accent a bit -- in the hope of avoiding such mishaps in future. "I was observing the zombies as we fought," Brachus says. "Instead of lending a hand like you should have been!" Hugh notes. "You were using them both..." He crouches next to a zombie with a bashed-open head. "What're you doing?" "Conducting an experiment..." He reaches out. "Brachus... Brachus! Stop it! Wait!" Hugh drops his cleaver and claws at his left arm with his right, as though trying to restrain it. The effect is somewhat absurd. "I said stop it!" he wails. His left hand grasps a piece of brain matter. "This will only take a moment..." "Don't you dare! Don't you bloody well-" His words are smothered when the brain fragment is shoved into his maw. His lips clamp shut, and a curious facial tussle occurs – making him look apoplectic. A gulping swallow followed by a stream of profanity reveals that Brachus won the struggle. "You bastard! You bloody bastard!" "As I suspected..." "You-" "These aren't the zombies assigned to meet us." "You bast-" "Shut up, Hugh!" Tessa says. "Brachus, how do you know that?" "The zombies lacked free will. They wouldn't have been well suited to the task you described. I know of this form of necromancy... These undead were commanded by an external force, given simple instructions that they attempted to carry out as mindless automatons." "Interesting..." you say. "Interesting?" Hugh shrieks. "Interesting? I-" "It was brave of you to eat that brain, Hugh," Rakshara says. "Many warriors would have lost their nerve." "Well... I've got plenty of pluck..." His cheeks color. "From the... experience... of this one's brain, I suspect that there are many more of these zombies in the forest, along with their master. And from the primitive nature of his control over them, destroying that master should dispatch the rest of them in a single blow." "Good thinking," you say. "Let's find him and put a stop to these zombies." "Might as well." Hugh shrugs. "Least that way no one will eat our brains while we're traipsing around this place." Category:Where Dead Men Walk